


Divine

by OverwatchingYouSleep



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Breeding, Demons, F/M, Hypnosis, Immobilization, noncon, oni hanzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-09 21:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10421919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverwatchingYouSleep/pseuds/OverwatchingYouSleep
Summary: He saw everything in you, including his own.





	1. Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Commission Piece. More of my writing can be found at overwatching-you-sleep.tumblr.com/ and I talk there about taking requests and commissions.

You didn't know what he was. You didn't know what he wanted from you. All you knew was that his name was Hanzo.  
  
Every night for the past week, when you had gone to sleep, you had felt eyes on the back of your head, felt as though you were being constantly watched. You lived alone, no pets or known spirit inhabitants to watch you while you slept. It was only last night that you finally caught the culprit.  
  
Tonight, he wasn't even truly trying to be sneaky. You had tucked in, turning on your night light (a hopeful attempt at stopping the feeling, which didn't work) and laying your head on your pillow. You hadn't been sleeping properly and exhaustion filled your core. If fate was on your side, you’d be so tired you’d fall asleep instantly, avoiding the feeling. Tonight, you were not quite so lucky.  
  
Like always, it started fast. Unease crawling up your spine and settling in the hairs of the back of your neck. You squirmed beneath your blankets. Night after night, this feeling haunted you, and you couldn’t sleep if you felt eyes boring into the back of your neck. With the tiny zap of obsolescence, your night light went black. Never a good sign.

You turned over, and when you finally found a pair of eyes staring back, you scrambled until you sat up.  
  
You almost thought it was a ghost at first. His charcoal gray skin blended against the darkness, only the blinding white of his eyes visible. You could make out the outline of his clothing, and the large, curved weapon on his back. He didn't react to your obvious seeing him, only sat there and... watched.

You were certain there and then that this was the source of your insomniac nights.  
  
You wanted to take your blanket off and confront him, but something inside of you, something instinctual, told you that this was a very bad idea. You weren’t weak, not by a long shot, but something in you recognized a force in this man that was above-human. It was less like you had a stalker in your bedroom, and almost entirely like you were coming face-to-face with a monster.You didn't know what to do, had no idea how to react--so you didn't.

Making sure to nod knowingly at the man, ghost, whatever he was, you turned and laid down. You felt as though your own body was preventing you from calling from help, from doing anything. Your instincts were clear; that this was what you were supposed to do in the face of this creature. Submit.  
  
Over your shoulder, you heard a small bout of laughter. You felt sweat crawling across your lip, and when he spoke again, his voice mere inches from your ear, you nearly jumped out of your skin.  
  
"Wise choice," he commended you, and the tongue you felt curl around the shell of your ear was most certainly not human. "My name is Hanzo. Do you know who I am?"  
  
"No," you admitted, though your throat constricted with the thought of saying any word at all. You wanted to sleep, wanted to pretend this was a bad dream that you simply needed to wake up from. Just a dream. A figment of your imagination.  
  
His fingers trailed up your arm through the blanket and your gut screamed. The waves radiating off the man were those of danger, your instincts all on red alert, telling you that whatever this thing was, it was a predator and you were not safe. You shivered beneath the covers, pulling them up to cover your head.  
  
"You think the monster will leave if you hide?" he asked, muffled through the cloth. You didn't respond, only closed your eyes and willed yourself to go to sleep. Or wake up. Whichever would get you out of this nightmare. You felt weight shifting on the bed, and when fingers curled beneath the blanket, pulling it to reveal your face, you nearly cried.  
  
"I'm afraid it's not that simple," he said, and you got your first good look at him. His silky black hair was tied back with a ribbon, his arm exposed and a tattoo crawling up his gray skin. What you were most interested in, however, was the two little black horns that poked out from the very edge of his hairline. You were almost certain in what he was, and part of you wanted to die right here and now.  
  
"I have come for you." He ripped the blanket off in one swoop, and immediately the icy cold air hit your entire body. The room had somehow dropped 30 degrees. You grasped for the blanket, but he draped his body over you instead, pinning you to the bed with one hand wrapped around your throat. His skin was as cold as the air around you.  
  
"You will not be hiding from me," he said softly, his eyes boring uncomfortably into you. He looked possessed. You squirmed, trying to get away, and his grip around your windpipe tightened. Your lungs felt like inflating balloons, your chest heaving to try and get as much air into you as possible. Kneeling towards your ear, his voice purred through you like musical waves.  
  
"I wish we could have met on better terms. You must cooperate for that to be possible." His voice was so soft; it was almost easy to forget he was choking you to death. His tongue, slimy and inhuman, flicked out again, wrapping around your earlobe. "I'll come again tomorrow night, and then, I expect you to welcome me."  
  
He pulled away so quickly, you were frozen in place for a moment purely by fear. When you sat up, he was gone. Your night light flickered back to life, and you could nearly feel tears rising. When you went to bed that night, you felt the eyes still. Every time you turned to look over your shoulder, he wasn’t there.

\--

You couldn’t keep sleeping at your friend’s house forever. She had understood your complaints, about how you couldn’t sleep because of how insecure your house felt ever since the break-in a few nights before. You had lied to her about the details, only saying that you had heard a man come in downstairs and you peeked from the stairwell, while he stole your DVD player and left. The story was weak, of course, but she bought it.

3 nights later, and you still dreaded coming back to the house in the morning. You feared that Hanzo would be there; sitting on your couch while you walked in, ready to kill you for escaping him. Yet, every time you’d come back, when the sun was well into the sky and it was unarguably morning, your house was empty and undisturbed.

She hadn’t said anything, but you could tell your presence was starting to extend past your welcome. You did your best to stay out of her way, going home during the day and buying your own food, taking your showers there, etc. Yet still, you couldn’t help but feel past due. You thanked her for the company, promising to reinforce the locks on your doors and windows as you swore you’d get your fears straightened out. She waved, secretly grateful you were certain, and closed the front door. You were on your own again.

You walked into your house, half-expecting something to be waiting for you, but it was still morning time; your safety hours. You had until sundown to either find somewhere else to sleep, or figure out some way to counter this…thing. If you were right, and you had the feeling you were, he was some sort of demon. Would salt work? An exorcism?  
  
You spent the day trying to go about your routine as normally as possible, taking care of your dishes, laundry, all while trying to think of what you were going to do. You couldn’t keep having sleepovers at your friend’s houses forever. You had to figure out something. You had to find some means of protection, otherwise you were prey.

That night, you laid down to bed just past sundown, a switchblade clutched in your sweating hand beneath the covers. You were so nervous, you didn’t even bother trying to sleep. Maybe he thought you weren’t coming back. Maybe he wouldn’t check. The time stretched, and your body began to gradually relax on the pillow. You knew the night was far from over, but already the thought had planted in your head and begun to sprout: He left me alone. I’m free.

Then, as though summoned by your hope, the feeling appeared. Eyes, boring into the back of your head, gazing into your skull. The hairs on your skin rising to alert, among your goosebumps. Within you, that deep instinctual feeling that a predator was near began to burn. Prey. You were prey, ready to be feasted upon, and you wanted to run. You brought the switchblade to your heart, whispering a curse underneath your breath. It was time. You didn’t know what to do. All you could think of was how stupid you were for putting yourself in this situation again.

“There you are.” He sounded to be across the room, but you knew that could change in a second if he wanted it to. You didn’t move, wanting him to come to you, hoping that the element of surprise was what you needed to take him. As you hoped, he approached, but not in the lightning quick way that you expected. You knew he was capable of stealth, which could only mean that his slow, imposing footsteps and heavy breathing were on purpose.

You laid there in silence, hoping that sleep would buy you time, he might wait for you to wake up. What you had not counted on was your body stiffening, your muscles going rigid against your will, and your lips pressing shut and sticking. You could not move if you tried. You could not speak. He laid his hand on your shoulder, turning you onto your back, and there he was.

For an uncomfortably long time, he stood over you, his gaze trailing up and down the length of your body. You whimpered through your paralyzed lips, trying unsuccessfully to pull away. When he met your eyes, his hand reached to continue his work, fingers tracing delicately down the curves of your body. You wished you didn't have to look him in the eyes while he did this.

"You are very foolish," he commented, as he circled the tip of his middle finger around your nipple through your pajamas. You shivered beneath his touch, and the spell allowed your reaction, the only movement that broke your total stillness. "I tell you to welcome me, and you run. For days, I sit in wait for you, but you continue to avoid me. Did you think I would be happy to see you?"

 _"No,"_ you wanted to scream, wanted to insist that this was not what you expected to happen at all. But you couldn't. Your lips felt sewn together. The switchblade still lingered in your frozen fingers, stuck closed. You wished he would lose his focus. Wished you could just get your arm free. He was obviously not expecting your answer, his finger continuing to trail down your body and over the curve of your hips. He started to move inward, paused, and continued to run his fingers down your thigh instead.

“The only reason I did not go out to hunt for you— “this verb choice made you sweat”—is because I knew that you could not leave forever. I knew you would come back to face me eventually.” Once he had reached the end of his trail, he moved his hand back up your body, taking your shirt with it as he went. Of course, removing your clothing while you couldn’t move would be difficult, so he settled for tearing it off instead, the tatters of cloth being tossed behind him carelessly as he made the same work of your pants.

"Do you know what I want from you?" he asked, meeting your eye. His face showed no emotion, his eyes unreadable. You found this more terrifying than any of his actions; the idea that you didn't know if he was doing this out of cruelty, out of some perverted sense of love, or whatever else. It also meant you could never anticipate what he would do next. You shook your head with what little control you had, looking more like a twitch than denial, but he must have seen it, because he leaned close, inches away from you ear.

"You're not that clueless. You must know of my intentions, but if you truly do not...I pity you."

With his voice so close, you were distracted of his fingers lifting away from your leg until they fell to your skin again, over your panties. You shut your eyes, tried to buck your hips away, but there was no fighting. No way to struggle. Anything that he felt fit to do to you, he could get away with, and you had no way of saying otherwise. His other hand reached around your side, his fingers prying into yours and slipping your forgotten switchblade away. You froze, thinking he would get angry, but he barely gave it pause, stopping only to toss the weapon over his shoulder. Was he really that indifferent to the idea that you meant to stab him? Or would stabbing him even accomplish anything besides pissing him off?

These thoughts ran over your mind, all while he moved your underwear aside. His thumb moved to rub at your clitoris through its hood, and after everything, you wanted to cry. You had no idea what sort of night lie ahead for you.

"Your body is divine," he said, suddenly. Watery eyes locked onto him, your brow furrowed. He leaned down while he toyed with you, lying his cheek against your stomach. "Inside of you, your life energy glows. You may not be any more than human, but--" he closed his eyes and nuzzled your naval "--the blood of angels flood through you. Makes you strong. It makes you perfect."

His words raveled through your brain, making you feel a range of emotions. You felt flattered, nearly infatuated, but you remembered what he was doing to you, and knew he could be saying anything that would calm you down. He already had you paralyzed though, you saw no reason for him to lie. You were so confused, so wrapped up in your own analysis of his words, that you almost didn't hear the next thing he said.

"It makes you perfect," he continued, his lips pressed to your stomach, "to bear a demon's child."

If you thought you were trying to thrash before, you were possessed now. Your limbs didn't move any more than a half-inch each, despite you throwing all your strength into it. He meant to get you pregnant. You had to bear this thing a child, or else he likely wouldn't let you live. All because of some sort of divinity in your heart? You were just a regular ass adult, working a normal job with a normal life.

All of this, your struggles, your background, mattered none to him. All he could think of was the stomach that he was cradling so gently, dreaming of how you would look pregnant with his own within you.

His patience was suffering already. His fingers drew away from your sex, trailing your wetness up your lower stomach until his digit was dry. Making short work of your panties, he took another moment to admire your naked form, in all its glory. He stretched his hand out flat, his palm pressed against your stomach, right where your bump would begin to form. He was getting himself harder just from imagining it. He wanted your body, wanted to defile and corrupt the energy within you to his own. In the process, he also wanted something he'd always dreamt of: his legacy.

You represented these things. To him, that made you a goddess.

You continued to struggle as his lips moved down, replacing his hand where his hand replaced your mouth. His tongue pressed against your clit, it's forked tip moving just over your nub. He grinned and did it harder when you shivered, his hand rubbing up and down your stomach.

He was going to break you, you felt trapped with your nonexistence ability to move. His spell was so strong, you didn't know how long he'd keep it on you, but it was driving you mad. You would have rather followed his every command than had this spell over you, but your lips were shut tight; you couldn't even beg for that.

He brought his free hand down to poke and prod at your hole while his mouth worked your clit, his facial hair tickling the sensitive skin around your labia. You watched his fingers on your stomach trace slow, unrecognizable patterns.

A few rotations later, you realized what he was drawing on you. the way his fingers raised and fell in short little bursts, trailing a line against your skin. They were incision marks.

You were revolted. Vomit swam in the base of your throat.

His tongue pulled away, both of his hands following soon after. The sudden lack of attention on your body made you feel cold, even colder than before, when his inhuman hands were trailing over your flesh. He was licking his fingers, pulling himself onto the bed and draping his body over your frozen form, he made sure you watched as he finished sucking your juices off his finger. Once he finished, his finger fell out of his mouth and onto your cheek, tracing a thin path from one ear to the other along your jawline.

"You are going to do so well," he cooed, his voice taking on a dreamy tone. "I will feed you, clothe you, bathe you. You will not have to lift a finger, so long as you are bearing me children. You will be treated like royalty."

He raised his finger away from your jaw, and in one quick motion, snapped in your face. You blinked, the airtight restrictions you had felt against your body was gone now, your rigid posture slumped against the bed. You were free!

The first thing you did was open your mouth and take a deep breath, stretching out your lungs. It was about all the time you had to enjoy your freedom before his hands clung tight around your ribs, holding you still so that he could position himself between your legs.

He had already pulled down his pants from beneath his white tunic, his tip positioning itself right at your entrance. You wanted to squirm away--so badly that it was near impossible to resist the urge to-- but he raised his hand threateningly, fingers ready to snap again, and you got the message.

You could only lay there and squirm when he pushed his cock inside of you.

He wasn't no easy fit, and you could tell his cock had some sort of taint to it like the rest of him, for despite his low body temperature, it burned every inch of your walls, making you hiss into your teeth.

His lips found your jawline, and he pressed gentle kisses against it while he moved back and forth within you. As he moved, the burn moved away from your walls and throughout your entire lower body. You moaned out your anguish, and he moaned as well, with a much different emotion.

"Do you feel it?" he asked, his hands gripping your torso so hard you thought it would break. "Do you feel my energy flowing through you? Turning your light to smoke, to darkness?"

"Yes," you gasped, only in shock at his statement. It was true, the burning energy was spreading down your every limb, encasing your heart in what felt like hot magma. You were sweating, grunts and wheezes erupting from your lips as you tried to ease the pain by sheer will.  
  
He was still violating you, enjoying your struggles immensely. Already, he was full-throttle pounding into you, his hips slapping against your inner thighs with every quick thrust, and you were too caught up in your own pain to realize.

Finally, his corrupted burn reached your head, burning into your brain like a migraine. You moaned, pulling your pillow up to wrap it around your ears, trying to block it out, and like that, it was over. Your body felt refreshed, like every cell throughout your body had just reformed and killed off the old. You opened your eyes, still afraid it was going to come back, and you saw him. Saw his devious, unabashed smile. Everything was still, his cock still pushed inside you, and you locked eyes with him.

"Welcome to my world," he murmured, his hands reaching around your body to grip onto your hips instead. It was odd, you didn’t feel much different. He lifted them up, holding your body at an incline. "Now, to finish this."

At this angle, his cock hit a spot in you that made you scream, pushing your face into the pillow so that you wouldn't wake the neighbors, or worse, anger him. He pulled his own ponytail out, his straight hair billowing down and cutting off just before his shoulders. It rippled with every thrust, framing his face as its gray turned darker from blush and sweat began to bead on his temples. He was close.

He lifted your hips even higher before he emptied himself inside of you. Gravity helped urge it along to your womb. He thrusted a few more times, making sure that every drop was released, before he pulled his cock out. His grip relinquished and you fell to the bed with a thud. Your ears were ringing, and you felt like you were losing your mind. You wondered if it was too much to hope that he'd just leave, and when he slid into you bed beside you, suddenly it was.

"What a wonderful duty, to be a mother," he whispered, his hand pushed against your stomach lovingly. Already, you could feel unrest in your organs. Different from the unease of sex, but of another, foreign feeling. You wondered, your tired mind too spent to focus on anything else, just how different a demon pregnancy would be. "I'll be here to see you through it. Every moment."


	2. As Usual

When you first woke up, you had no idea what you were going to open your eyes to.

You could already tell it was daytime from the light in your room, and you wondered if perhaps Hanzo had disappeared, as he had so often before. You opened your eyes, turned facing the wall, and decided to take the chance. Slowly, careful not to make too much noise, you turned to look over your shoulder. His back was turned to you, but he sat fully alert, spine straight and hands in his lap. You didn't have any delusions; he knew you were awake.

"Hanzo," you whispered weakly. You were still having a hard time believing the events of last night were true. That's not just a thing that...happens to people. It just doesn't. But, the unfamiliar gurgling in your gut confirmed that it was all too real, and that your future was going to involve him quite a bit. The very thought nauseated you, and you quickly pushed past him to run to the bathroom.

You had not been eating well ever since the first night you'd seen him, so you didn't have much to contribute besides pure bile. Once you were done dry-heaving into the toilet, you wiped your mouth with a towel and flushed. He was standing there, in the doorway watching you like a perverted fuck, and you shivered while you walked over to the sink.

The minty toothpaste contrasted heavily to the taste of vomit, and you gagged again on your toothbrush, but it eventually overcame and you could rid your mouth of the taste entirely. You were staring directly at the mirror, taking tabs of your distraught expression and tired bags underneath your eyes. Perhaps that was why it scared you so badly when his hands fell on your shoulders.

"Good morning," he greeted, smiling down at you. Just as you would have expected, he was staring down at you in total admiration, his pure white eyes nearly sparkling with passion. You wanted to retch, but you just turned back to the sink. He didn't have a reflection.

"Mornnpth," you greeted, foam dribbling out on your lips. You spit the contents of your mouth into the sink, gargling back a small cup of water and spitting that out after. Your breath smelled and felt fresh, and you immediately felt a million times better, even if not okay. You couldn't possibly be okay with that thing standing right behind you.

"Lay back down, and I will bring you breakfast," Hanzo insisted. You turned around, prying his hands off your shoulders and standing up to him. He wasn't a terrible amount taller than you, but the few inches he had certainly made a difference in your chest-to-chest standoff. You were still naked from the night before.

"I can make my own breakfast," you affirmed, trying to squeeze past him and out the door. He grabbed your arm, tugging you back to stand in front of him.

"You will do nothing so long as you have my child inside of you." Just like that, tears erupted from your eyes, and you covered your face. You were pregnant. Worse still, you were pregnant with some sort of demon child. It might even kill you giving birth to it and you would have no idea. The gravity of the situation, which had been so cautiously floating around you, suddenly crashed right on top of your head. Your chest ached, you were wheezing. You didn't want any of this.

You were so upset that you barely squirmed when he lifted you up and brought you back to the bedroom. Tucked in to your covers, he tucked your hair behind you ear and whispered that he'd return before disappearing into your hallway. He closed the door behind him.

You curled up in your blankets, wondering why this had happened to you. You wished you could go back to your life a week ago. That was all it took to completely turn your life around: a week. You had to laugh, even if it was choked. Even if it felt a little bit forced.

Throughout the day, Hanzo brought you intricate meals, made from things you had forgotten were even in your kitchen. You had also seen a maid enter and take your dirty dishes off your dresser, which confused the hell out of you. It wasn't until she had turned to leave that you saw the pointed ear sticking out from her hair. She was no more human than he was.

Sometime after dinner, you had asked Hanzo to take you downstairs to your living room, which he obliged. You stretched your legs out on the couch, making him sit on the very end, and you stared at the TV without watching. Something told you he was doing the same.

"What's going to happen to me?" you finally ask, your voice hoarse from all your crying. He looked over at you, some unreadable expression written all over his face, before he reached up to cradle your stomach.

"The fetus will crave nutrients. Human food will not sustain it. You must ingest the blood of a demon to sate its tastes." He looked at you, waiting for you to catch his meaning, and you did so immediately. You couldn't hide your revolt, nor the way you turned away to avoid looking at him. His hand rubbed your stomach still, and he continued onward. "The horns will make it impossible to come out of you naturally. The only way that you will survive is by removing it in... other methods."

So that was what he was doing with the incision marks. He wanted to cut you open. You wanted to run out of your house and take off across the country, without giving a damn about money or your possessions. Unfortunately, you couldn't afford to not give a damn about money, and the last thing you wanted to do was to lead him elsewhere, where he could hurt someone you care about.

You knew he would, too. Now, you weren't just a tempting prospect. You were a partner, completely under his command, and there was no more escape.

He carried you upstairs, tucking you into bed not long after it got dark out. He undressed completely before he slid in beside you, his naked body pressed close against your clothed one. You could feel his erection pressed against your thigh, his lips on your temple.

"Good night." You knew the night was far from over, and you only acknowledged him with a nod. His hand fell over your breast, and your response became a whimper.

=====

2 weeks after you had gotten pregnant, and already you were in excruciating pain.

You could see the way the fetus fought against you, your stomach distending painfully and causing you endless agony. You squirmed around in bed, clutching your stomach, while Hanzo watched your writhing figure in silence. It was only after a particularly gruesome scream that he gave you his diagnosis. "It's hungry."

"It's hungry??" you screeched, turning to face him directly. "What does it want to--" Your conversation from the other night flashed through your mind again, it's implications making you pale considerably. "--oh..."

“Oh, indeed.” You can already hear the excitement in his voice, the pure sadistic fuck. He excused himself to grab something, leaving you to squirm in agony on your lonesome. You stared down at your stomach, where your bump had hardly formed. You were right on your first assumption: the pregnancy was moving quickly.

Then, your stomach rumbled, and a multitude of what felt like limbs (if your baby had 50 sets of arms and legs) scraped across the expanse of your stomach. You clutched your sheets in pain. It was like your baby was kicking on steroids.

Hanzo had come back, standing right beside you again. You watched in abject horror as he held your chef knife to his bare forearm and took a deep slice. He didn’t even flinch. Black blood, like slick oil, dripped down his arm and onto the floor, drizzling at a steady pace. He hadn’t deviated a millimeter from the artery. You involuntarily shuddered at the sight.

“You want me to…drink that?” you asked, gesturing towards his bleeding arm. He dropped the knife to the floor and brought his body closer to you, so that his wound dripped mere inches from your head, and onto your white sheets. You almost had the nerve to get pissed.

“Open up.”

“Not raw.”

“What, do you expect me to cook it into a pudding for you?”

“That sounds delicious, actually. Could you?”

You had tried all his short supply of patience already. He seized your jaw with firm tenderness, pursing your mouth open with his hands. You stuck out your tongue in protest, but he must have seen it as want, the way his breath escaped in a flustered hiss before he moved his arm over you. Your tongue spasmed helplessly as the blood dripped past it and directly into your throat. You couldn’t thrash. You had learned that thrashing would only lead to terrible things.

When you saw the anomaly out of the corner of your eye, you thought it was a trick of the light. Then, the way Hanzo’s face puzzled, his head tilted in utter curiosity for a brief moment before a wicked grin spread out across his entire face. He was looking at you like you had just presented him with the Hope diamond.

“You are coming to look more like me every day,” he whispered, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. You blinked, trying to raise your hand into your vision past his body, still hunched over yours. You were greeted with dark black veins, protruding against your skin like dark rivers everywhere that you could see. You screamed, and subsequently choked when the blood began to slide down the wrong hole in the process.

“Do not worry, it is merely my blood flowing through you, slowly making its way into the child. It is temporary.” He says this like it’s a shame, and maybe to him it is. You were still choking, unable to respond, and he finally let you sit up and cough the blood back out. But the damage is done; you can see your pitch black veins against your thighs. He reaches around you and runs his finger down the biggest artery, almost lovingly.

“Imagine if I were to bite you there,” he whispered, a vaguely concealed threat. You sank away, replying with a grim shrug, and he laughed. The sight of his sharp teeth did nothing to calm you down. “I have a little map of you now, with all of your weak spots. Not to say I didn’t already know them all.”

You weren’t sure how to feel about the way he said that.

His finger trailed further up your thigh, until it pressed over your slit. Instinctually knowing what was to come, you were already getting wet, and you grinded lightly against his finger. You weren’t sold on the affection yet, but you had long since abandoned your struggles during sex. You were disciplined quickly when you fucked multiple times a day.

“How is your stomach?” he asked, and you were surprised to find that it had not bothered you once since he had…”fed” you. You rubbed your belly with tenderness, nodding affirmatively at Hanzo.

“Better.”

“Good.” He gripped your thighs with both hands now, smearing blood all over your right leg as he pulled you around and close to him. “It would be unfortunate to have pains on top of this.”

Perhaps it’s the way blood still dribbles out of your open mouth, trailing a thin line from the corner of your lips down to your jaw. Maybe it’s the web of veins spread out across your face, turning you into a stained glass window. Whatever it is, he’s apparently very excited about it.

“I dread the day that I can no longer touch you,” he whispered, his hand hovering over your settled stomach. “And yet, I hunger for it all at the same time. What do you suppose that means?”

“You want to have your cake and eat it too?” You half-expected him to lash out after that, but he actually laughed at your comeback.

“I suppose, in a manner of speaking.” As you bantered, you were acutely aware of how his hands ran down your body, pulling your thighs apart and leaving you completely exposed to him. You raised your hips the few inches you needed to meet his, and his eyes widened at your initiative. You were a quick learner.

“If you insist,” he joked in his own way, and you actually smiled. Just as quickly as he pushed his way inside of you, the smile was gone and was replaced by your own incredulous anger at yourself. For everything that’s happening to be happening, and your sitting here cracking sex jokes with the cause of it all. You shouldn’t be enjoying this. You shouldn’t be complacent, and yet, the way he was looking down at you, brushing your hair away from your face so that he could look you in the eyes while he fucked you…it spoke words to your heart in an indescribable language.

It was all starting to soften your opinion of him by a good margin.

“Have you always been this tight?” he asked through his breathlessness, his hips snapping against yours with every thrust. He never hesitated to give you his all. 

“That’s funny,” you scoffed. He smirked, and god, he was handsome. You could see the concentration in his face, the flexing of his muscles, all these small details that did nothing to mar his perfect appearance. You found that you thought he looked best like this, during sex, with his hair down, and his body smelling of sweat. And you.

God, what was wrong with you?

“You are beautiful,” he said, his voice softening as he raised his hand to your cheek. It wasn’t until you felt the warm wetness that you realized it was his arm that was still bleeding. The blood was dripping all down the side of your face and neck, and he was smearing it across your cheek as he cradled you. You shivered like a lamb.

He pressed the entire length of his body against you, blood smearing on blood and his lips pressed to yours. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, and he swiped away the rest of his blood from behind your teeth, letting it wash down your throat. You gagged on it, and he pulled his mouth back.

“I’m close,” he warned, one of the rare times that he would. You threw your head back into the pillow, grabbing the side and pulling it around so that you could bite on it. You had learned that it was easier when you had something to scream in. His thrusts were becoming more erratic, his hips pressing against you in irregular rhythm, and he was moaning your name low under his breath. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and as if on cue, he came inside of you.

It was slow, this time. Something you hated. The corrupting, burning heat raised slowly through your stomach and began to snake out all over your body. You screamed your agony in the pillow as the burn flowed through you, sending pins and needles through your fingers and toes and making your very bones ache in pain. It felt like ages before it stopped. So long that Hanzo had already pulled himself out and off of you.

“You do so well,” he was praising you, standing right beside the bed and watching your twitching figure as you were relieved from the pain. You released the pillow from your mouth, looking at your two hands in front of you. Underneath the drying blood on your fingers, your veins looked to be back to normal. He was right about it being temporary.

By the time the twitches had subsided, you were all-together worn out. Your body ached, and you wanted to lay down and sleep for another twelve hours. Hanzo was already acquainted with your post-sex habits and left you be, only watching with a particular fondness as you rolled over and settled for sleep.

He never did stop watching you sleep.

  
====

Your reflection in the mirror, as compared to two months before, was a shock. First was the massive change in your shape, your posture being pushed back to balance the massive weight of your stomach. The child was close now, your stomach barely peeking out of the bottom of your shirt. Your skin hadn’t felt the sun’s touch in weeks, and your veins were still abnormally dark against your flesh.

Yet, besides that, there were no obvious signs of your captivity. The bags under your eyes had disappeared in favor of your plentiful sleep schedule, and your face was clear of any acne. Admittedly, it was much easier to relax and not stress when you had your every whim catered to. You looked like a healthy mother, albeit a vampiric one.

When he stepped into the bathroom behind you, you didn’t react. He did this casually, invade your privacy, and you had long since learned that nothing you said or did would stop him. It quickly became a usual fixture. He was just nosey. He watched you himself while you cradled your stomach, pulling your shirt up to stare at your distended belly in the mirror. You couldn’t see the expression on his face.

“She will come soon,” he said finally, his hand sliding around you to rest on your stomach. You found yourself leaning against his back, letting him support your body. “You should give birth any day now, and we will see how your body handles the strain of your incision.”

Even with these technical words, reminding you that he had come into your home to invade your body and your life, that in mere days you would be carved open like a coconut for him to gather his prize out of you, you remained calm. You knew that, though the child was all he ever talked about with you, he had some semblance of feelings towards you as well. He treated you like a queen because of the child, but in the moments where you laid together in bed, all the things he whispered into your ear then? That was how you knew that you meant more.

“You will make me so proud,” he murmured, and his other hand looped around you to rest on your stomach. He was pressed against your back in full, but there was nothing sexual about the touch. Just pure intimacy. You took your chance with your next words, more curious about how he would react than anything.

“I hope I do, Hanzo.” It was the first time you had ever said anything resembling romantic to him. You weren’t sure how you felt yet, about the entire situation, but there was truth to the fact that his touch sent a wave of relief through you, and judging from the way he exhaled with content, your words had put him through the same effect.

“You will,” he repeated, “I am certain.” Now, he’s not looking at your belly in the mirror, but his eyes were locked onto yours. You had no idea, unable to see his reflection, which made it all the more adorable to him. He was smiling, without wickedness or ill-intent. You settled in his arms, closing your eyes, and for a moment, everything felt right.

Maybe soon, with a daughter to tie it all together, it would be.


End file.
